Page 29 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
He laughs, and says: ‘Labrador by any chance?’
‘Yes. A very naughty one, obviously. Juno looks like she’d quite like to raid the picnic basket too.’
‘She probably would. I’m going to get some chicken out and feed her a scrap soon. And then bit by bit, the others might be brave enough to come in. They’ll be tempted by the meat, and they’ll see Juno interacting with you, and me interacting with you, and start to relax a little.’
I nod and cast my eyes around the little clearing where we’ve based ourselves. One of the Wolfdogs is sitting watching us, his fur a silvery grey with dark markings. He’s called Argent, and he seems the most likely candidate for coming forward. The others are still further back.
Aidan sits up, and I tear my eyes from the dog to look at him. I watch as he calls Juno over and feeds her a treat. Then he passes them to me, and I do the same. She is remarkably gentle, and I feel a rush of warmth towards her.
‘If one of them does come over, try to relax,’ he says. ‘Don’t make any sudden movements. It’s okay to talk. And by the way, did I mention how much I love your hair?’
My cheeks flame, predictably enough, and he smiles at my response. ‘Um. You can’t tell me to relax then say things like that.’
‘Ah, but I can,’ he says, stroking Juno’s ears. ‘That day I came across you at Eggardon Hill? You were watching the sunset. I was watching you. The colours set your hair on fire, and I could almost feel the heat.’
Oh my Lord. This man. I’ve very much stopped thinking of him as a boy, because his personality simply doesn’t allow for it. He’s too experienced, too worldly, too confident. He sometimes makes me feel like a girl, though, and I can’t make my mind up whether I like that or not. I definitely shouldn’t, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I do.
‘I don’t know how to respond to that,’ I say, shaking my head, now suddenly conscious of my loose hair on my shoulders.
‘No need. Your blush is doing it for you. So, Argent is coming over. Just carry on as you are. Don’t try and coax him or call him, just let him do what he feels comfortable with.’
The other dog lopes towards us hesitantly, one step forward then a couple back, like he simply can’t make his mind up. Juno lets out a little yip, maybe of encouragement, and when he gets close enough Aidan holds out a small chunk of chicken. Argent gobbles it up, looks at me curiously, then runs away. He disappears off into the woods to join the others, and although I know they’re close, I can’t quite see any of them. I presume if I got up and left, they’d all creep out to see Aidan.
Aidan himself is now grinning ear to ear, and it’s infectious. He’s clearly delighted.
‘That was fantastic,’ he says. ‘I didn’t think any of them would actually come that close! Even if that’s as far as we get for today, it’s progress. Thank you. It’s… Well, I guess it’s nice to do these things with someone. I like my own space, and my mom says I’m a “lone wolf” myself, but I start to go slightly too feral if I’m alone for too long.’
I can’t ever imagine a man like Aidan being short of company. But then again, looking from the outside in, maybe people would say the same about me. Yet here we both are, carving out our solitary paths in life, bumping into each other in this remote corner of the world.
‘Me too,’ I admit. ‘I have a terrible tendency to disappear up my own backside for days on end. Some of it’s the nature of my work. Some of it’s the nature of me, I suppose. I’m not very good at… you know… people.’
He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and the unexpected contact makes me jump. I try to hide it, but of course he notices.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’
‘It’s okay. I was just surprised. Like I said, I’m not good at people.’
He looks on as Juno runs into the woods, and replies: ‘You’re doing just fine with this particular person. I’m a patient guy.’
‘I get that, Aidan. But I still don’t quite understand why you think I’m worth waiting for. We barely know each other. You could… Well, let’s not lie, you could have any woman you wanted, looking the way you look, being the way you are.’
He raises his eyebrows and laughs. ‘Being the way I am?’
‘Yeah. Confident. Flirty. Touch of the tortured soul. All that stuff.’
‘Wow. I’m going to start putting that on my résumé. As to the rest of that, I call bullshit. Technically, we barely know each other. But I’ve told you more about myself in a week than I have anybody else in a year. I felt it as soon as we met, a pull, an attraction. Admittedly, to start with, it was just because you look great, but now? Now, I like you. You’re funny. You’re smart. You’re interesting. I think you like me too. And I want to see where this goes.’
I want to tell him he’s mad, that he’s imagining it. But I can’t. It’s all true, and I’ve felt that same pull, much as I’d like to deny it.
‘Are you sure I’m not just a challenge? I bet you’re used to women falling at your feet. Perhaps this is just the novelty of me remaining upright.’
He laughs and says: ‘I love the way you put things! And yeah, maybe that’s part of it, but what’s wrong with that? It doesn’t mean that as soon as I persuade you to become not-upright– I’ll leave that to your imagination– I’ll lose interest. I’m not that guy.’
‘Okay,’ I reply, not quite knowing how to deal with all of this. Maybe a touch of honesty would help us both. ‘But you should know this about me: I have baggage. The emotional kind.’
‘I’d be worried if you didn’t. So do I. Maybe we can unpack it together.’
My eyes widen at the idea, but then I ask myself, would that really be so bad? Why do I feel ashamed and embarrassed about the things that have happened to me? Why do I always somehow manage to take on the blame when other people treat me badly?
